If You Were a Man
by AlphaWolf13
Summary: Tamaki isn't your most masculin of men. But what would happen if Renge told him as much. Part of the same series as Fluffy and the Ghost. The stories don't follow any chronological order. Read 'em any way you want. But please do respond.


**For those of you who read my story **_**Fluffy and the Ghost**_**, you're probably wondering what was going on between Tamaki and Renge. There was obviously some chemistry, but when did things take off? When did she become more than the manager to him. This is a little look into the past. I'm looking to make it part of a series of stories about the Ouran characters at various points in their lives. You don't have to read the stories in order to understand what's going on. Please read and review. **

**Disclaimer: Characters are sooo not mine. Last time I checked, I was just you're average high school student (until one day I discovered that I was in truth Wonder Woman). **

Tamaki and Renge were the only two left in Music Room 3 after a long, strenuous day. Tamaki was clearing the tables off and Renge was writing up some notes as to what they would do to make sure the Host Club went out with a bang.

Graduation was in two weeks. Once Tamaki and Kyouya – the two founding members – were gone, the Host Club would be no more. It was sad really, to think that a whole era would be coming to an end in a matter of weeks. The club had meant so much to everyone at Ouran. Next year would definitely be too quite for Renge's taste.

"Houshakuji-chan," Tamaki said. Renge looked up from her notepad to see Tamaki struggling to get a grip on the door handle, his hands full of plates and teacups. "Would you open the door for me? My hands are full and I can't get it."

"Sure," Renge replied, setting the notepad aside. She walked towards the door and grabbed the handle. She tried to turn it, but there was no turning to be had.

"It's jammed," Renge said, wriggling a bit harder. Tamaki placed the cups and plates on a nearby table.

"Let me try," he said. But there was no opening that door. Tamaki was beginning to get frantic. "Can anyone hear us?" he cried, banning on the door.

"It's no use," Renge said, only slightly perturbed. "Everyone else has gone home. Didn't you hear the final bell ring?"

"But there has got to be janitors or other cleaning staff out there," Tamaki insisted.

"They get Friday night off," Renge replied.

"But today isn't Friday," Tamaki exclaimed, excitement quickly rushing into his voice. Renge shook her head. Tamaki began to count on his fingers. His face fell. "Damn it," he scowled.

"Look at you, Suoh-kun," she chuckled. "You're acting like such a little girl."

"I am not," Tamaki huffed, placing a hand on his hip. Renge gave him a quizzical look. Tamaki realized that the hand-on-hip move really had been a little girlish. "Alright, fine, that wasn't as masculine as I was hoping for. But you're making it sound like I always act like a woman," Tamaki accused.

"That's because you do," Renge sighed, turning to walk towards the couch.

Tamaki grabbed her wrist. He wasn't letting her call him a girl and get away with it. "I do not," Tamaki objected. "I'll have you know that I'm a real man. I will not have you question my manliness."

"Look, whatever. You're a man, okay, I get it," she said, but Tamaki wasn't quite satisfied.

"Houshakuji-can, what can I do to prove it to you?" Tamaki asked.

"If you're really a man, than kiss me," Renge said, shrugging. She knew that Tamaki would never kiss her. He had too much honor, or whatever it was that made him so annoyingly cute all the time. Honestly, he rivaled Hunny in the innocence department.

Renge was interrupted in her thoughts as a pair of lips were about to come crashing down onto hers. She took a drastic step back.

"Whoa, what are you doing?" Renge asked, chuckling uneasily and eyeing Tamaki unsurely.

"I'm proving my manliness," Tamaki replied, as though it were the most innocent thing in the world.

"With my lips?" she asked awkwardly.

"You're the one who suggested this, Houshakuji-chan. It shouldn't be a problem, unless you aren't woman enough."

"Alright, just get it over with," Renge scowled. Tamaki stepped forward and kissed her lightly, a little lip on lip action, tongues remaining squarely in their own mouths. They pulled apart just as quickly .

"Ick," Renge whined, making a face like she'd just licked a lemon.

"Oh my God, eww," Tamaki exclaimed.

They both stopped suddenly.

"Was it just me?" Renge began.

"That was nice wasn't it?" Tamaki marveled.

"Rather enjoyable I'd say," Renge agreed.

"Wanna do it again?" Tamaki asked, a little hopeful.

"Okay," Renge blurted, much too excitedly for a sophisticated lady.

They came together again, just as awkwardly, but when their lips met, awkward flew out the window. There was groping and moaning and all that other stuff that went a little past PG.

Tamaki swiped his arm to the side and knocked the teacups off a nearby table, picking Renge up and placing her down on the tabletop. He began to work his mouth down to her neck but quickly encountered a problem.

"Your uniform really likes to encourage abstinence, doesn't it?" Tamaki chucked.

"I always did hate this thing," Renge growled, literally _tearing_ the neck open.

"I didn't know you were so sensual," Tamaki laughed, trailing his lips over her jawbone.

"And I didn't know you were so untamed," she replied, planting a kiss on his forehead.

"Well, I am the king."

**x x x**

It was early Saturday morning when Kyouya popped open the door to the Host Club. Renge and Tamaki almost instantly scuffled out looking much to guilty.

"Thanks Kyouya," Renge muttered.

"Thank you," Tamaki said, missing all his regular enthusiasm.

"Were you guys locked in here all night?" Kyouya called after them. They didn't replied, they just walked silently down the hall… Was Renge's heel broken? And… okay, that was definitely a tear in Tamaki's uniform.

"You had your cell on," Kyouya continued. "You could have just called."

He turned to see the mess that the Third Music Room had become. Shattered teacups and plates, tables and chairs knocked over, scraps of fabric haphazardly strewn about.

Kyouya turned to reevaluate the couple that had just left the room. He suddenly saw them in a new light. He shook his head in denial and looked back at the mess in front of him. He didn't want to know.

"Welcome to the Host Club," he sighed. He had a lot of cleaning up to do.


End file.
